


Constants

by gentlelogic



Series: Sanders Sides Micro Fic Collection (Take Two) [6]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:24:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlelogic/pseuds/gentlelogic
Summary: Virgil has his first anxiety attack on the first day of third grade. Sometimes, he wonders what his life would be like if Patton Sanders hadn’t been there.





	Constants

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from @Randomslasher on Tumblr: Ooooooo, Marin prompts??? Yes please! Any chance at a father-son type Moxiety ficlet? Maybe Patton is a teacher and Virgil is one of his students, and Virgil doesn't have parents and Patton finds out and adoption somehow? I dunno if that's even realistic but adfasj something else if you want just anything father-son Moxiety esp found family would make my day! <3

**_first day of third grade_ **

Virgil’s shoes are a little too tight as he swings them back and forth against the bus seat in front of him. His lunchbox dangles from his left hand as he leans against the window, watching the houses and fields pass by. The loud noises of the kids on the bus are muffled to him but the engine roars loudly in his ears. 

He reminds himself once again that if he just makes it through the day, he can escape into his bed at the end of it all, and just sleep. Something tells him it’s probably not a good idea to be sleeping so much lately, especially when all the other kids go outside and squeal and play. 

But he has an  _excuse_. He’s sad. And he should be allowed to be sad. He lost his parents over the summer. Virgil should have a right to sleep all day if he wants. 

He can’t though. He has to get up at 7:30 in the morning, stuff his school supplies in an ugly orange and green backpack, and march to the bus stop by 8:30 so he’s not late for his first day of third grade. Without his parents taking pictures and fawning over him. Without his mom ruffling his hair or his dad pulling him into a crushing hug and kissing his cheek and little too sloppily. 

As the bus pulls to a stop, Virgil hurriedly wipes his cheeks, checking to make sure there are no tears there. There’s none, of course. He hasn’t cried since the day the ambulance drove off with Virgil inside it, but not his parents. The day he watched a man run a red light, slamming into his parents on the crosswalk, a mere two feet behind Virgil. 

“Hey, dude, you coming in?” a kid asks softly. Virgil eyes him warily and stands with a nod. The guy grins and links his arm with Virgil’s and the two walk off the bus. Once they get off, Virgil flinches away, furrowing his brow at the boy. 

“My name’s Roman,” he says cheerfully. 

“Okay,” Virgil says.

Roman frowns but nods decisively. “Why do you have bruises under your eyes?”

Virgil reaches up and touches his under eyelids and glares. “They’re called eye bags, jerkface.”

Roman recoils. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s whatever.” Virgil speeds up his pace, leaving Roman behind. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper holding his homeroom teacher’s name and classroom number on it. 

“Do you have Mr. Sanders too?” Roman asks suddenly, finally catching up with Virgil. 

Virgil sighs and rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah. I do.”

“What’s your name?”

“Virgil.”

“Okay,” Roman says, as they turn down the hall to their classroom. “Do you wanna be friends?”

All Virgil does is shrug as he pushes open the classroom door. It’s empty besides Mr. Sanders, who sits at his desk, wearing a bright blue polo and his big black glasses. He looks up from his computer and grins. 

“Hey, kiddos! Pick a seat and make it a good one because you get to keep it for the rest of the semester.”

“You wanna sit up front?” Roman asks Virgil.

“No.” Virgil picks a seat in the far back to the right and sets down his backpack on the chair and begins unloading his supplies as a couple more kids stream into the room. 

Roman hesitantly sits down beside Virgil and begins unpacking his own red and gold backpack. 

“You can sit up front if you want,” Virgil says. “I don’t care.”

“I wanna sit back here,” Roman says and grins. Virgil just glances down at his pencil box and shoves it in his desk then sits down, laying his head down.

Minutes later, Mr. Sanders makes his way to the front of the room and begins writing, “Mr. Patton Sanders,” in big round letters on the board. He claps loudly and everyone quiets, looking up anxiously at him. Mr. Sanders smiles brightly. 

“Well, hello everyone! It’s great to see you all here today. For those of you who couldn’t make it to open house, I’m Mr. Sanders, and I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the year.” His smile doesn’t waver in the slightest as he continues his speech. “I thought we could kick off the school year by doing something fun! So, how about we play a game?”

Several excited noises from the kids, including Roman, echo through the classroom, as they wait for Mr. Sanders to continue. Virgil just continues staring up from where his chin rests in his arms.

Mr. Sanders picks up a bouncy ball from beside the board and says, “I’m going to say one cool fact about myself then toss it to one of you guys and you’ll say something cool about yourself and toss it to another person and they’ll say something cool about themself and the cycle repeats until everyone has gotten a couple of chances!” More kids cheer and clap excitedly and Mr. Sanders grins. 

“All right. I have a cat at home and we call him Crofter, after the jelly brand!” Mr. Sanders tosses the ball. 

A girl catches it. “My name’s Bri and I like dogs!” She tosses the ball.

Another girl catches it. “I’m Rachel and I have three brothers!” She tosses the ball. 

Roman catches it. “My name’s Roman! I wanna be a prince someday.” Some kids giggle as he tosses the ball to Virgil.

Virgil catches it. His breath catches as he sees everyone staring at him expectantly. “Uhm... I... uhm. I’m Virgil.” He throws the ball. Someone yells out a protest and Mr. Sanders gently shushes them, telling them that Virgil’s words count as a fact. 

“My name’s Remy and I like hot chocolate!” He tosses the ball. 

A girl catches it. “My name’s Sydney but I go by Syd.” She throws the ball to Virgil. 

Virgil catches it with trembling hands. Everyone stares at him again. His throat is dry. “I’m. Uhm. I...” He feels his eyes burning. “I like music,” he chokes out and throws the ball. It goes too far across the classroom and slams into one of the two computers. 

A few kids gasp and Virgil jerks backwards, staring wide-eyed as the ball rolls away from the computer back over to the desks. A couple of kids giggle. Virgil feels his chest tightening. He can’t breathe and the class is too loud. 

Mr. Sanders tells the class to quiet down then says something about making name tags and makes his way across the room, stopping at Virgil’s desk. 

“Let’s go out in the hall, kiddo, hm?”

Virgil walks out with Mr. Sanders, limbs trembling. As soon as they get into the hallway, Virgil bursts into tears and takes more short and gasping breaths. He feels like he’s dying. His chest is too tight, something sharp jabbing into his heart as he sobs and sobs. 

“Virgil, hey, hey. Deep breath, buddy. Watch me.” Mr. Sanders pulls in an exaggerated breath, then holds it, then lets it out. Virgil tries to copy him, but he fails, and it brings out a fresh wave of tears. 

“It’s okay,” Mr. Sanders says, voice quiet and soft. “Let’s take our time here.” 

Virgil tries again and again and again, until he’s finally breathing a little more normally, chest shuddering still. 

“You wanna go to the nurse's office, kiddo?” Mr. Sanders asks. There’s nothing but kindness shining in Mr. Sanders’ eyes and it makes Virgil’s heart ache all the more. 

He shakes his head. 

Mr. Sanders nods. “Are you embarrassed? ‘Cause lemme tell ya, kiddo, that thing with the ball has nothing on what I did in third grade. On the first day of school, I dumped glitter all over my teachers pants! It was terrible.” 

Virgil lets out a small laugh and says quietly, “I miss my parents.” 

Mr. Sanders frowns. “You’ve only got a couple of hours and you’ll get to go home.”

A tear leaks down Virgil’s cheek and he shakes his head. “My parents are gone, Mr. Sanders. I lost them this summer.”

There’s a soft breath of air and Mr. Sanders own eyes fill with tears. Slowly he says, “Oh dear. Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate right now. More than just a silly ol’ ball hitting a computer.” 

Virgil nods again and feels another bout of tears pressing at his eyes. He swallows down the urge to break down sobbing again. “I’m sorry for throwing the ball too hard.”

“It’s okay, Virgil. No harm, no foul. Are you sure you don’t want to visit the nurse?”

“I’m sure.”

Mr. Sanders nods. “Okay, kiddo. We’ll go back inside, okay? And how about we talk a little bit after class? Figure a couple of things out that might make this year a little easier for you?”

Virgil nods. “Yes, sir.”

“All right. C’mon.” Mr. Sanders pushes open the door and Virgil wipes his face with his sleeve, then walks in and takes his seat. 

“All right, guys!” Mr. Sanders says. “Keep working on your name tags for now and I’ll let you know when it’s time for the science lab.”

Virgil pulls out his name tag stickers and pencil box and begins writing out his name when he feels someone nudge his shoulder. Roman is leaning over, holding a folded piece of paper. Slowly, Virgil takes it. 

_You okay, friendo?_

_[] no :(_

_[] yes :D_

Virgil slowly takes out another pencil, checking to make sure Mr. Sanders isn’t watching him. He checks off the “yes,” box and slides it over to Roman and works on his name tag for the rest of the class.

**_6 years later | first day of ninth grade_ **

“Virgil! Kiddo!” Virgil groans as his black eyeliner smears across his eyelid when his hand jerks in surprise. He sighs and backs away from the bathroom mirror. 

“Yes, Patton?”

“Roman and Logan are downstairs waiting for you, buddy. Roman wants you to hurry.”

“Tell his impatient ass to hang on.”

“Language!”

Virgil winces. “Sorry, dad.” 

“I’ll forgive you... this time,” Patton says. Virgil smiles at Patton’s half-teasing half-chiding tone. “Hurry up though, kiddo! I do wanna get some pictures.”

“Okay.” Virgil wipes away the rest of the smeared eyeliner and reapplies it as quickly as possible. He grabs his backpack from the bathroom floor and tosses on his shoes and hoodie, then races down the stairs. 

Logan and Roman sit at the kitchen table, Logan frantically reading over his schedule for the millionth time since he’d received it a month ago. Roman jerks up. 

“Finally!” he cries. “Patton told me to be patient, but you were taking ages.”

“I took five minutes, dude. Calm down,” Virgil says, grabbing a muffin from the middle of the table. The cat, Crofter, meows loudly as Virgil accidentally steps on her tail. Virgil immediately drops to his knees. 

“I am so sorry, Miss Crofter.” He gently pats her head and she purrs quietly. He smiles fondly. 

“Kinder to the cat than to me. How rude,” Roman says. 

“Not my fault a cat is cooler than you,” Virgil says.

“Virgil, be nice,” Patton scolds.

“I do not believe it is in Virgil’s programming to be ‘nice,’ Mr. Sanders,” Logan quips, lowering his paper. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, Logan?” Patton asks in amusement. “It’s just Patton.”

“And how many times do I have to tell  _you_ , Patton- He’d be calling Ro and I by our surnames if Roman wouldn’t kill him first,” Virgil says. 

“It is a very real fear of mine,” Logan replies dryly. 

“Hey!” Roman yells.

“All right, you three. I wanna get a good picture of you guys together,” Patton says. 

Virgil groans. “You’re embarrassing me here, man.”

“It’s my job, kiddo,” Patton says with a bright grin. He raises his cellphone. “Say cheese!”

Virgil leans against his friends and smiles so wide that his face hurts by the time Patton has taken the picture. 

It’s the best he’s felt in a long while.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, this is such an excellent prompt, omg! I’m sorry that I went a little overboard, this prompt just held a lot of opportunity to it and I ran with it. Enjoy!


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